


Merry Christmas

by charlestonIguess



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Doctor Who, Glee, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV), Sherlock (TV), Star Trek, Supernatural, Tangled (2010), Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clintasha - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, F/M, M/M, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-25 23:59:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlestonIguess/pseuds/charlestonIguess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a series of really really short drabbles that I wrote to celebrate Christmas, including said pairings. Enjoy!<br/>Now adding in Christmas 2013 drabbles!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wolfstar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Everyone on tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Everyone+on+tumblr).



> My very first OTP. Very short, but longer than some of the others.

The fire was burning low in the Common Room. Remus watched the flames, entranced by the glowing embers and the spitting of the new wood. He sighed, warm through and thoroughly exhausted, and wished briefly he had hot chocolate. That would be nice right now, he thought.

But instead of having hot chocolate, he was sitting up late at night, barely able to keep his eyes open, waiting for Sirius to get back from some date or other and was unable to escape the utterly painful reality that the animagus would never reciprocate Remus’ love for him.

It’s Christmas Eve, he told himself. Stop bringing yourself down.

Yeah, like that was ever going to happen.

He’d had feelings for Sirius for as long as he could remember having feelings for anyone. Puberty had struck one day during summer before third year and he was in love. Totally, head-over-heels, swooning love. It didn’t help that Sirius had done everything he could from that time on to look after Remus and make him feel better about the whole werewolf thing, including breaking the law and becoming an animagus. In fact, that had clinched it – Remus Lupin was a one-boy man.

He sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as he imagined Sirius’ smile in his mind’s eye, and fell asleep.

The scent of chocolate under his nose woke him and he smiled, peeling open his eyes to see Sirius kneeling in front of him, a mug of hot chocolate in one hand and a smile on his face. Helping Remus up, Sirius handed the mug to him and then lent forwards, a strange, shy look in his eyes. Hesitating for only a second, Sirius darted forwards and dropped a quick peck onto Remus’ lips. Then he sat back and murmured, “Merry Christmas, Remus.

“Merry Christmas, Sirius.”


	2. Brittany and Santana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't seen this show since season two. Forgive me.

Santana stared at the Christmas card in front of her in horror. It was pink, with fake snow and a handmade reindeer. With a pink nose. 

“What do you think?” Brittany asked. They sat in her room, talking quietly – they had been all evening. But this… this was just weird. “I spent ages on it.”

“It’s really-” Santana cut herself off as she looked up at Brittany, her dark hair swinging forwards to brush the edges of her vision. She looked so hopeful… she couldn’t upset that, could she? As much as she wanted to lie… she couldn’t’. “It’s lovely, Brit.”

Brittany’s answering smile was worth the lie, wide and happy. “Merry Christmas Santana,” she said quietly as she reached forwards to kiss her.

“Merry Christmas, Brittany,” Santana replied as she allowed her friend to pull her clothes off. “Merry Christmas.


	3. Destiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this when I was watching season four. This has no place in canon.

It was snowing outside, the windows on the motel frozen over, but Dean hardly noticed as he thumbed through his Dad’s journal, studying the familiar words with a frown etched into his forehead. The answer was here somewhere… it had to be.

“Dean.” 

Dean glanced up, then jerked back, shocked by Castiel’s proximity. “Cas!” he exclaimed. “What’s up?”

Cas was studying him with his head slightly tilted to one side, but at the question he smiled. “Dean, it’s snowing.”

“I can tell, Cas,” he muttered, looking back at the journal. “Is that it?”

“Come outside, Dean,” Cas said quietly, his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Please?”

Dean blinked at him, confused by the request – and the manner of asking – but stood up and allowed himself to be led outside. The snow was already a couple of inches thick and was falling steadily, enough that he drew his coat closer for warmth. “What’s up, Cas?”

Castiel smiled and turned to face Dean. He simply looked at him for a moment, then flopped backwards, into the snow.

“Cas?! Are you-?” He began to move his arms and legs and Dean frowned at him in confusion, before realising. Then he was struggling not to laugh. “Are you making a snow angel?”  
Cas looked up at him and said, “Is that not acceptable? I have seen people doing this-”

“It’s brilliant,” Dean replied, kneeling beside him. He bent his head down to meet the angel and kissed him fiercely, as if the warmth generated would warm his whole body. Castiel responded just as fiercely and only when Dean pulled away did he let him go. 

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Cas said.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”


	4. Tenth Doctor and Rose Tyler

“So,” the Doctor said, turning to Rose with a smile on his face. “We saved the world.”

“Again,” Rose agreed cheerfully as they stepped towards the TARDIS. “But we do that, don’t we Doctor?”

“We do. Well, I do and you’re there, making everything more difficult- hey! ”

Rose smacked him in the chest but sighed. Her arms snaked around his shoulders and his around her waist as she murmured, “I beg to differ.”

“Yeah,” he agreed calmly, that small smile still on his face. “You save the world an awful lot, Rose Tyler.”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me!” She laughed as he did what she said, kissing her softly at first but with growing fervour, his lips working against hers as if in prayer. 

When he pulled back, they stared at each other wordlessly. Then -

“Merry Christmas, Doctor,” Rose whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Rose.”


	5. Rachel and Quinn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, again, I haven't seen this in who knows how long.

“And really, I just think that if we sing that thing none of us will get anywhere at all, since it’s so-”

“Rachel, will you be quiet?” Quinn shook her hair out and sighed. “You’re so annoying!”

Rachel looked down at her feet and hesitated. “I’m sorry.” It was quiet and calm, but Quinn could hear the hurt in it.

“No, I am,” she muttered, turning round to look at her. “I just… Sometimes. It – gets a bit much. But – well.” She sighed, touched Rachel’s face calmly, and bent to kiss the soft lips. 

When she leant back, Rachel smiled.

“Merry Christmas, Quinn.”

“Merry Christmas, Rachel.”


	6. Clintasha

The arrow she found was the third one that day. It wasn’t just strewn around – no, it had been carefully placed inside her things. As had the first two. However, this one had a note wrapped around it, which the other two lacked; she opened it quickly and scanned it with eyebrows raised. 

It was a drawing of a reindeer.

A bubble of laughter escaped her lips and everyone at the table – hell, everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. – stared at her, but she just looked at Clint. He was careful to look confused and surprised, but she could see the amusement in his eyes.

“Will you excuse me?” she asked them quickly. “I have – something to deal with.” With that, she stood and swept from the room. Behind her, she heard Clint making his excuses too.

She found herself marching down the corridor, away from him, but his hand caught her and pulled her to a stop. He was smiling at her and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling back. He glanced up and smiled, then bent forwards and kissed her slowly. When he let her up for breath, she glanced up to see mistletoe.

“Merry Christmas, Natasha.”

“Merry Christmas.”


	7. John Watson and Greg Lestrade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2013 and I'm returning. Let's see how I've changed, hey?

It was initially going to be a meeting to complain about Sherlock. They’d been meeting at least once a month for the last year, once John could finally talk about his friend again. Lestrade had taken Sherlock’s death better than John, but only just. Once a year had passed… well, they both found it therapeutic. In a way, it was the best way to honour their old friend – not to mourn him, but to act like he had never torn their hearts in two.

But this meeting wasn’t like the others. It snowed, in London, as shocking as that was, and John was running late. He reached the little café that they met at ten past one, just as Lestrade was getting up to leave. John sighed.

“I’m sorry, Greg,” John said as the man stepped outside into the snow. “The weather meant that the buses weren’t running.” He waved his cane and added, “This can be kind of haphazard with the slush.”

Lestrade said, “You look frozen.”

“I walked from the other side of London,” John grouched. “I _am_ frozen.”

Lestrade chuckled. “Come back to mine. It’s closer, and we can get warm there.”

The walk took a few minutes, but soon enough Lestrade was taking John’s coat and scarf, hanging them up to dry. “Are you really sticking with the moustache?”

“Doesn’t it make me seem wise and distinguished?” John joked and Lestrade laughed, shaking his head.

“About as much as this haircut does me,” he told him. Then he leant forwards and kissed John lightly, a chaste peck, before drawing back and saying, “And it tickles.”

John blinked at him in shock, before saying, “Bedroom?”

It turned out that the best way to get warm again was body heat. Greg was very enthusiastic to show John that.


	8. Winteriron (a.k.a. Bucky and Tony)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of smut!

Steve has been going overboard all December. Tony hates Christmas – he’s told the other Avengers that several times since they moved in, but they still don’t pay any attention. It’s been more than a year since they joined him in Stark Tower, after that ridiculous Doom incident, and it’s their second Christmas together. Steve was over the top last year, but this year it’s twice as bad.

There’s a reason for it, and that reason is standing by the windows in Tony’s penthouse, brooding over a glass of bourbon. Tony sighs, dropping his briefcase and shrugging out of his suit jacket – you’d think that the board would want to get home to their families on Christmas Eve, but no, they had to keep Tony till gone nine o’clock at night. God, he hated board meetings.

“Something keeping you up, sugar?” Tony asked Bucky casually, loosening his tie. He longs, briefly, for his bed. The man doesn’t turn to look at him, so Tony sighs and says, “Bucky,” in a different tone: more serious, less throw-away.

“Steve really cares about Christmas, doesn’t he?”

Tony barely withholds a second sigh and says, “Yes, Buck, he does. He wants to make it special for you, you _know_ this, why is it keeping you up? Santa won’t come if you’re still awake.” He reaches the bar and starts to contemplate what he’ll drink first.

Bucky turns suddenly, and there’s pent-up violence there. Tony hasn’t seen him like this in a long time – not since he first ‘woke up’ at the least. He slams down the glass on the bar and grabs Tony’s arm, pulling him away from the bar and into his body.

“I,” Bucky starts, glaring at Tony, his tone a vicious whisper, “Am _not_ going to lie to Steve on my first Christmas back. We’re telling him tomorrow, got that?”

“Yes, sir,” Tony can’t help but reply, and Bucky rewards him with a bruising kiss.

“Strip,” Bucky orders him, voice dropping to a low growl that goes straight to Tony’s groin. “Take your clothes off and bend over that bar of yours, Stark.”

“Shit,” Tony swore, fingers fumbling at the buttons of his shirt. “What-?”

“Don’t talk,” Bucky snaps. “I told you to strip, Stark, and that was it. Do as I say.”

Tony’s cock is getting hard already, and all thoughts of his bed evaporate from his mind (except in the sexy sense, because those thoughts are ramping up). His shirt hits the floor, then his undershirt, and he bends down to pull of his shoes and socks. A sharp slap to his ass has him rocking forward and struggling to choke down a moan. He’s not going to give in that easily, after all.

Then his pants hit the floor and Bucky’s staring at him, his cock bulging in his pants, and Tony remembers the rest of his order. He turns and bends over the bar, presenting himself for Bucky, ignoring the part of him that wants to cover himself up.

“Alright, Stark. Well done.” Bucky moves behind him and Tony wants to turn and look at him, kiss him, but holds himself still instead. “Now, I want you to stay very still. Hold the edge of the bar – good, like that. Now don’t move at all.” Tony stills, waiting, and then Bucky’s hands are putting a piece of fabric around his eyes – his tie, Tony presumes – and panic hits. He gasps for breath, beginning to struggle, but Bucky placing his hand between his shoulder blades is grounding.

“Calm down, Tony. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Just relax.” The words help, just as much as the hand does, and Tony manages to relax his shoulders, getting used to the blindness. He breathes deeply, and Bucky strokes down his back.

“So good for me, Tony,” Bucky whispers. “You’d do this all day, wouldn’t you? Do anything I tell you? You’d crawl on your knees for the whole world to see if I just said the word.”

Tony groans and lets his forehead drop to touch the cool surface of the bar. The hand on his back moves away, but another replaces it on his ass, rubbing circles into it. “You’re not allowed to come, Tony.”

The noise that comes out of his mouth is _not_ a whine, no matter what anyone might say. Tony Stark doesn’t whine. And when a cool, metal finger pushes its way into him, he definitely doesn’t whimper either.

Bucky chuckles darkly, and the hand that was rubbing his ass draws away and comes back down, heavily, in a stinging slap that jolts Tony forwards and forcing a groan out of him. He waits impatiently, but nothing happens except for the finger moving in and out of him gently. It’s such a contrast against the pain of the slap that Tony wants to laugh, but refrains from doing so in case Bucky takes it the wrong way. When he wants to punish Tony, he _really_ punishes Tony.

Another hard slap pushes the thought away, delicious as it was, and pain burns through his ass, leaving him breathing heavily. The first finger pulls out and returns with a second one, breaching him and beginning to slowly scissor in and out, stretching him.

“Beg,” Bucky orders and, mindlessly, Tony does.

“Please, Bucky,” he gasps. “God, please, you are driving me crazy. I’m such a slut for this, your slut, I need this. I need _you_. I don’t care what you do to me, just do it, please, Bucky!”

Of course, that’s the moment that Steve’s voice says, “I can come back.”


	9. Merlin and Arthur

It’s their first Christmas together in the modern world, and Arthur is confused by everything. He hates the music, the blaring lights confuse him, he doesn’t understand the fuss about Christmas films and really, he wonders when this turned into such a drag. Yule in his life had been different – then again, everything had been different.

But he was adapting now, finally, and finding his friends and family again, reborn, had been a bonus. Of course, only Merlin and he remembered them from before, but seeing Gwen and Lance so happy together in this life made him smile. At least once life had given them something perfect.

Their little family – Gwen, Lance, Gwaine, Percy, Elyan and Leon – were sitting in their front room, around the Christmas tree, opening presents. Arthur stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching them with fondness. Gwen’s pregnant belly pressed at her dress, while Lance had his arm carefully around her. Elyan smiled at her from where he sat, drinking Bucks Fizz, and Leon and Percy were talking together in low voices, while Gwaine curled around Percy’s large body possessively.

Somehow, that pairing didn’t surprise Arthur.

“Enjoying yourself?” Merlin’s voice was right behind him, but Arthur didn’t jump. He’d grown used to Merlin being constantly around him since he woke up again. Sometimes he still marvels at how Merlin waited for him. His friend had been old when Arthur woke up, but his magic had rejuvenated him to make him the same age as when Arthur had died.

“It’s nice,” Arthur said quietly. “I was expecting… I don’t know. With all the craziness of the modern world out there, this isn’t what I was expecting.”

“The modern world is crazy, Arthur,” Merlin agrees, wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning into his neck. “But not all of it. Some bits are nice.”

Like this, Arthur thinks, leaning back into the man’s embrace. Being with Merlin, in the open. Science, medicine, indoor plumbing. Ovens. There are good parts to the modern world.

He turns around in Merlin’s arms and kisses him, nibbling at his lower lip and sighing into the mouth that opens pliantly before him. This much desire… Well. Arthur’s tempted to take Merlin off to their bedroom immediately, but as soon as he thinks about it, Leon interrupts them.

“Oi, lovebirds! Come and open some presents. I don’t want to watch you make out all day.”

There are some good things about the modern world, and there are some things that haven’t changed one bit. Not getting any privacy was apparently eternal. 


	10. Destiel Returns Once More

Christmas in the bunker. Dean’s first Christmas with a home, for a long time (he’s not counting that wonderful, bizarre, dream-like year with Lisa, because that hadn’t had Sam and so wasn’t home to him). Perhaps, more importantly, Dean’s first Christmas with Cas.

He watches his fallen angel frown at the gingerbread in front of him, struggling to get it to stand straight. Dean had found the box while he was out buying groceries and hadn’t been able to stop himself. He knew Cas would enjoy it, and was being proved right at that very second.

Cas sighs as another piece falls to the table and Sam chuckles beside him, looking up from his book. “It’s not that hard, Cas.”

“You try, then,” the angel says petulantly and Dean grins as he walks in, leaning down to kiss Cas for a second because he just can’t help himself.

“Get a room,” Sam complains, and that just makes Dean’s grin wider.

“Already got one, man,” he points out, and then leans over Cas’ shoulders to hold the gingerbread. “Put the icing here,” he orders, and Cas lifts the tube. In a few deft minutes, they have a gingerbread house put together, standing relatively sturdily. “Decorate it as you will,” Dean tells his lover, stepping back, only to be grabbed by the t-shirt.

Cas stands and kisses him soundly, murmuring his thanks into his lips. Kevin walks in the door as he does so and groans loudly.

“Can’t you two go one minute without the kissing stuff?” he complains and Dean and Cas just laugh as Sam agrees loudly.

“Okay,” Dean says. “Christmas lunch time. Everyone’s going to help! Sam, you peel potatoes. Cas, can you do the sprouts? Kevin, carrots. Chop chop, everyone get busy!” Dean pulls on an apron and clicks the oven on. The others get up good-naturedly and join in around him.

It’s Dean’s first Christmas in the bunker, but in some ways it feels like his first Christmas ever. Dad had never let them do Christmas much, always travelling from hunt to hunt, and so it wasn’t a big surprise that Christmas had passed by with little marking. But now – well, now he had the chance to do it right. To enjoy himself, and to make the others happy.

He’s going to take it.

“What are you thinking about?” Cas asks him quietly, staring at him.

Dean shrugs, then smiles and leans over for another kiss. He can’t help himself, and no longer sees why he should stop himself. Even with all the mess around them – even with Heaven closed and angels fighting a war on earth – he deserves this one little piece of happiness. Doesn’t he?

“I love you,” Castiel, angel of the Lord, tells him softly. “Dean Winchester.”

Yes, Dean decides as he kisses Cas again, he deserves it.


	11. Bucky and Steve

God, what a nightmare.

Steve’s bleeding out against his shoulder and shaking, unable to pull himself out of his flashback. The battle goes on around them, but the cold is seeping into Steve and Bucky knows that his lover is somewhere he can’t reach. The snowstorm around them keeps raging and Bucky can’t see a thing. He just holds on and hopes that someone will realise, that someone will help them.

He tries the comms again. “This is the Winter Soldier. Captain America is down, I repeat, Captain America is down. I need med evac ASAP, I’m talking yesterday here people. Does anyone copy?”

Finally, his comm crackles and Tony’s exhausted voice makes it through the blaze of static. “I –opy, Winter S-. –On my way… position.”

“Copy, Iron Man,” Bucky rasps. “You’re not coming through loud and clear, but I got the gist anyway.” Steve, he thinks, and sighs, leaning down to kiss the shaking man’s shoulder.

“Come back to me, Steve,” he begs quietly. “Tony’s on his way – he’s going to get us somewhere safe. I know it’s cold, and I know it hurts, but Steve, you’re going to be okay. I promise. I’m here, I’ll make it okay. Just stay with me, Steve. Please.” Bucky’s voice breaks on the last word and he has to stop to choke back tears. “Come on, Steve. I only just got you back.”

Steve shifts in his arms and Bucky hopes for a second, before his lover lets out a frightened sob and Bucky just pulls him in tighter. “I’ve got you, Steve, I’ve got you.”

“Bucky…” It’s a quiet rasp, barely audible over the storm and the battle, but it’s there.

“I’m here, Steve,” Bucky promises. “I’me here, I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe.”

Over the comms, Iron Man says, “I’m almost there, Winter Soldier. Get Cap ready for lift off, will you? I’m coming in fast.”

“Copy that, Iron Man,” Bucky says, and pulls Steve to his feet, supporting most of the man’s weight. “Come on, Steve. Just a minute more.”

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve rasps, and Bucky lets out a choked sob of relief. “Not how I pictured – our first Christmas.”

Bucky laughs freely at that, then kisses him fiercely. “I don’t care about that, Steve. Not while I’ve got you.”

“Love you too,” Steve whispers, his voice thick with pain, but Bucky still smiles at the sentiment. Then Iron Man is there, lifting them both in his arms, and they’re flying towards the helicopter that will take them to hospital.

“By the way, guys,” Tony says conversationally, “You might want to switch comms off before the sickly sweet stuff next time.”

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” Steve says, and the wry tone makes Bucky relax. It’s going to be alright.


	12. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes

John still dreams of the Fall.

It would be impossible for him not to, of course. He’d dreamt about it for two years, waking up screaming. Even though Sherlock’s back – even though he’s _alive_ – John’s mind still doesn’t grasp that. So for him to wake, yelling Sherlock’s name – well, it’s not a regular occurrence, but it’s not rare either.

There are cool hands on his back in a second. John knows that Sherlock was awake already – he only dreams like this when Sherlock’s not in bed beside him.

“John,” Sherlock’s voice is anxious, as it always is when this happens. “I’m here, John.”

John rasps out a broken little laugh and says, “You’re a bastard.”

Opening his eyes, Sherlock’s face comes into focus slowly, a worried frown marring his face as he says, “I know, John. I’m sorry.”

Other people, John realises, would think that Sherlock doesn’t know how to apologise. Others think that Sherlock has no emotions at all, other than pride and arrogance. As Sherlock bends his head, unable to meet John’s eyes, John knows they’re wrong.

“It’s okay,” John whispers, and leans in to capture the other man’s lips. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” They lean their foreheads against each other for a long moment, resting and relaxing, taking comfort in the other’s presence (sometimes Sherlock wakes up from nightmares too, John’s lips on his name, but he never speaks about his years away).

“What are you doing up?” John asks some time later, and Sherlock looks fleetingly embarrassed.

“Well,” he says. “I was…”

John arches an eyebrow and gets out of bed, even though Sherlock tries to catch him and says, “Don’t, John! It’s a surprise.”

“A good one or a bad one?” John asks, amusement colouring his voice, but then he stops short as he leaves their room. The living room is decked out. There’s a tall Christmas tree in one corner, with lights and tinsel and baubles, and holly and more Christmas lights around the room and over the fireplace. There’s mistletoe above the doorframe, and unwrapped Christmas presents lying next to wrapping paper. John averts his eyes before he can see what they are, but Sherlock just sighs irritably.

“Not yours. I’ve had yours for weeks.”

John smiles at it and turns to him, glancing up at the mistletoe for an excuse as he kisses Sherlock again.

“Thank you,” he tells him. “This is wonderful.”

“Anything for you,” Sherlock promises, holding him close. “John Watson.”


	13. Flynn Rider and Rapunzel

Being a Prince still kind of freaks him out. There’s a lot to it, after all, and you have to go and talk to people and play nice and act all kingly, because one day the realm is going to be in your hands – well, Rapunzel’s hands mostly, but Flynn has to help out.

This is his first Christmas as Rapunzel’s husband (husband! The word still totally freaks him out) and he’s just finished visiting the poor people to hand out presents down by the docks. They welcomed him happily, which is _not_ how Flynn remembers feeling when he was poor.

It’s strange, he thinks, as he enters the castle to see the Queen and Rapunzel painting, side by side, some huge tapestry thing that Flynn asked about and Rapunzel refused to answer. But the second she sees him, her paintbrush is dropped and she runs to him, throwing her arms around him. He lifts her up and spins her, and amused laughter echoes around them.

The Court treats them as beloved pets, Flynn thinks, but he loves Rapunzel too much to care.

“Flynn!” she exclaims, short brown hair flying as she grins. “I have to show you something! Come on!” She grabs his hand and runs back out of the castle, towards the stable, and he sighs. Rapunzel and her horses.

Maximus is standing there, looking down at a golden mare, and Flynn raises an eyebrow at Rapunzel.

“Mother got her for me,” Rapunzel explains in a rush. “Isn’t she lovely?”

“Yeah,” Flynn tells her honestly. She smiles at him and he can’t help but smile back.

“Are you happy, Flynn?” she asks him and he stares at her, wondering why she would ask that. “I know this isn’t exactly what you’re used to, so I-”

“I couldn’t be happier,” he tells her, kissing her soundly. “Merry Christmas, blondie.”


	14. Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy

Honestly, Christmas on the Enterprise is never a big thing. Most people give and get gifts, some people go around carolling, but at the end of the day it’s just another day. Jim’s like a child at Christmas, though, and McCoy is used to that.

Or he thinks he is. But this is the first Christmas that they’re sleeping together for, so he should’ve realised it would be different.

So when he’s woken up by a shout of, “Christmas!”, he just groans and rolls over, burying his head in his pillows.

“Bones,” Jim is crawling up the bed and draping himself over his back. “Bones, it’s Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Leonard groans. “It’s also night. I don’t have to get up yet.”

“Christmas,” Jim whispers into his ear, covering his body. “Bones. Christmas.”

“Sleep,” McCoy replied. “Bed. Night time.”

“Presents,” Jim teased. “Turkey. Christmas…”

“Fuck,” Bones said. “Screw it.” Then he twisted underneath Jim and turned them both over, so he was holding his lover down. “If I fuck you, will you shut up and let me sleep for a bit?”

Jim smirked up at him and said, “I don’t know. Shall we try it and see?”


	15. Derek and Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually watch this. Fireman AU!

Since I don’t watch this, this is hard for me. But forgive me. Firefighter AU

Derek’s had a terrible day.

He’s sitting in hospital – A&E – covered in soot and ridiculously exhausted as he waits for some nurse to come and dress his burns. Two kids _died_ in that fire. Of course, now a lot more were homeless. For Chrsitmas. Fuckers.

It had been a call for an orphanage that had clearly been arson. That was the thing that hurt most of all – who set a kid’s home on fire? What the fuck was the point. Anger stirred inside him and his shoulders were filled with tension. Who killed _kids_?

“Sorry for the wait,” the young man says as he pulls his curtains open. Stiles looks tired today and Derek feels bad for him – a lot of people had come out of that fire injured. “Bit busy today.”

Derek nodded. “It was bad.”

“You saved a lot of lives out there,” Stiles says, smiling at him. Derek scowls, but the smile doesn’t go away.

“At least two kids are dead,” he growls, and the nurse sighs, cleaning his burnt arm carefully.

“And a lot more would be dead if you hadn’t been there. Everyone’s grateful to you, Mr Hale.”

“Derek,” he corrects quickly, like he does every time he comes in. He winces at the pain from his arm, but stares past the nurse to look at the blue curtains. Blue was such a sickly, horrible colour. Hospitals were so empty. God, he hated this.

Stiles finishes his arm and says, “Well, Derek, it’s not too bad. You just need to look after it and it shouldn’t scar too badly.”

“I don’t care about scars,” Derek mutters and Stiles nods.

“I know,” he says. “I get off in half an hour. Do you want to wait till then?”

Derek nods and stares past him, barely seeing his surroundings anymore. The flames feel hot against his skin, burning orange into his eyelids –

A cold hand touches his cheek and he jerks back to the present. Stiles looks worriedly down at him and says, “Are you going to be okay for half an hour?”

“I’ll be fine, kid,” Derek tells him and he sighs, before leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“Coffee,” Stiles tells him. “Go, get some, and wait for me. Then we can go home and pretend today never happened.”

“Sure,” Derek says, getting up, but Stiles stops him again.

“And one more thing,” the young nurse says, leaning up to kiss him soundly on the lips. “Merry Christmas.”


	16. Dean/Pie

Dean knows that Sam loves Christmas. That’s why he decided to be Santa this year. The bunker is full to the brim – Kevin’s lying in his room, Sam’s obviously asleep, Cas is in his room, Jody is here for Christmas and Charlie’s back from Oz.

So he’s got a sack of presents and is making his way around, quietly as he can, but he stops when he walks past the kitchen, because there’s a note on the door that says ‘Santa! This way!’ He’s just made his last delivery and is heading back to his room, but… Well, curiosity killed the cat.

Dean smirks to himself and walks into the room. Then grins.

On the table is the most beautiful pie he has ever seen. It’s still warm – so clearly, someone was awake – and the smell that fills the kitchen makes him groan. He drops his sack and grabs the fork.

Hours later, he wakes up to laughter and brings his head up from the table, blinking blearily at his family. Sam smirks at him and says, “Enjoy yourself last night, Dean?”

The pie case is empty, Dean has pie smeared on his face, but he grins and says, “Merry Christmas.”


	17. Batman and Robin

Robin’s quiet for days. Bruce doesn’t know why, until he does, and then he doesn’t know what to do. They’re out fighting crime, and the perp’s all tied up and ready for the law enforcement when Bruce finds his sidekick staring sadly at the Christmas tree the lights up Gotham’s shopping district.

Bruce sighs and calls to him, “Robin! We have to go.”

The boy jerks and runs to join him.

The next day, Robin’s face lights up when he sees the presents under the beautifully decorated tree that lights up Bruce’s home. Bruce smiles shortly at him and says, “Well, you’d better get opening them, then.”


	18. Tony Stark and Bruce Banner

“Fifty-six hours.”

Tony takes a minute to realise that the voice is actually a person and not just another thought in his head. Then he glances up from the holograms in front of him and sees Bruce standing in the doorway, wearing a Christmas jumper that has a reindeer on and some writing that Tony can’t focus enough to see.

He stares at Bruce blankly, trying to come out of his engineering haze to understand why he’s here.

“Tony,” Bruce says, and his voice is patient, but Tony knows he’s annoyed. “You’ve been here for fifty-six hours. You need to sleep.”

“But – Bruce – you have to _see_ this-”

“No, Tony,” Bruce said sternly. “JARVIS, shut it down.”

“But-” And Tony’s cut off by Bruce taking him by the arm and leading him into the elevator, which takes them up to the penthouse in silence. Tony’s nervous, suddenly, because he’s done something majorly wrong, but he can’t think through his exhaustion to realise what it is.

Then the doors open and the other Avengers are sitting around the Christmas tree – wait, since when was there a Christmas tree in his penthouse? And Steve is kissing Clint underneath the mistletoe, while Thor holds Jane, looking in awe at the present in her hands. Natasha leans against the couch where Bucky is sitting, while Phil and Loki talk in low voices.

It clicks.

“JARVIS, what’s the date?” Tony asks in a low voice.

“It’s the 25th of December, Sir.” JARVIS’s tone is stiff and subdued, and Tony realises that he has managed to piss everyone off.

“Go to bed, Tony,” Bruce says quietly. Tony shakes his head.

“No way,” he mutters. “Bruce, I’m sorry.” He turns to his partner and stares at him. “Seriously. I didn’t realise-”

“I know, Tony,” Bruce sighs, and Tony’s heart twists a little. “Get some rest.”

“Nope,” he says. “I’m going to make this up to you.”

“You haven’t slept in more than two days-”

“I can sleep when I’m dead!” Tony declares, and the others look up at him, expression of distaste on their faces. He really is a shit.

So he kisses Bruce, and the other man can’t resist that, leaning into him and becoming pliant and welcoming. Thank God for that – Tony never knows when the line is going to be too much – when he’s going to have gone too far.

“Sorry,” Tony whispers again.

“It’s okay.”

“Have you opened your present yet?”

“Not without you.”

Tony takes his hand and drags him to a sofa, sitting down beside him and cuddling up – he doesn’t usually do that, far too girly, but he knows that Bruce likes the contact. The others roll their eyes at him and sigh – Steve shooting him a disappointed look – but Bruce just smirks and kisses the top of his head.

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” Bruce tells him.

“You too, Brucie.”


End file.
